Saw - The First Apprentice
by TheSoulStealer
Summary: "Ever wonder where the Jigsaw Killer got all of his ideas for his traps? Ever wonder where he got the materials, and how he managed to keep a close eye on his victims? Well, that was mostly my doing. My name is Pamela Zoe Lewis, though most people know me as Puzzle. I am John's one and only first apprentice." Welcome to an OC behind-the-scenes look at the saw franchise.
1. Chapter 1 - The Mistake

**_Hey, guys! This was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, and I'm hoping to make at least a fairly-decent OC fanfic out of it. Saw is my favorite movie of all time, and I thought it would be cool to fill in some of the ever-abundant plot holes (like, where does Jigsaw get all the stuff for his traps?) with this fanfiction. Just be aware that this story will have LOTS AND LOTS of spoilers so, if you haven't seen the movies and want to see them, stop reading now.  
Also, I will still be updating my Soul Eater OC story along with this one.  
Disclaimer: I do not own the Saw franchise_**

"Why did you do that?!"  
"I'm sorry! I panicked!"  
I opened my eyes groggily. I could hear a man and a woman arguing, but my brain was so fuzzy I could barely tell what they were saying.  
"God damn it, Jill!" The man yelled. "We can't just have a child on our hands!"  
"John, please..." The woman, who I guess was named Jill, sounded scared as she tried to plead with the man. "We can start over. Cecil's dead. That's what you wanted, right? We can just go back to our normal lives."  
"Jill..." I was awake enough to sit up and see that the man, John, had a sad and almost regretful look in his eyes. "Jill, it can never go back to the way it used to be. This is what I'm supposed to do. I have to teach people to appreciate what they have."  
"Then help me at the clinic!"  
"No, Jill," John sighed. "Those people, they aren't learning anything there. They need to know the true feeling of survival."  
"That's not true!" For a second, it looked like they were going to start arguing again, but then Jill sighed. "John, I love you, but I can't be with you if you're going to continue doing this." Jill motioned to her right, where I saw a weird contraption involving a chair and knives, and a body tangled in a mass of razor wire. "I was never involved with any of this. As far as you're concerned, we had a divorce before you decided to drive yourself off a cliff." And with that, she left, turning around just once to give John a regretful look.  
John turned towards me. "You're awake."  
I had finally come to my senses by this time and realized what kind of situation I was in.  
"S-st-stay away from me!" I stuttered, pushing myself shakily to my feet.  
"I can't promise that I'm not going to hurt you," John said, as calmly as if he was telling me he bought a new pair of shoes. "But, as of right now, I have no intention to."  
"That's exactly what a psycho killer would say." I reached into my pocket for my switchblade, but there was nothing in there. I check my other pocket. Nothing. John reached into his pocket, then held out his hand, revealing my switchblade.  
"I'm not a killer," he said.  
"Then what about that?" I motioned to the body tangled in the razor wire.  
"He was missing a vital piece of the human puzzle." John turned towards the body. "The instinct to survive." He turned back towards me. "Do you have what it takes to survive?"  
"What is this?" I scoffed. "A test?"  
"Don't think of it as a test." He pressed the button on the switchblade and the knife slid out with a small _click_. "Think of it as a game. Catch." He threw the knife at me, giving it a high arch so I would have time to catch it. Without thinking, I caught it in my right hand by the blade. The blade cut into my hand, but I did nothing except swear under my breath and flip the knife around so that the blade was facing John.  
John looked at me thoughtfully. "You live on the streets," he guessed, pointing to my tattered old clothes. "You're in a gang. Nothing is beneath you. Stealing, killing, fighting. You are the lowest of the low."  
"I'm one of the toughest people out there," I protested, but John shook his head.  
"There's nothing tough about stealing from people who are so much weaker than you are."  
I suddenly remember what happened before I woke up here. I felt slightly guilty, but I pushed the thought away. "What are you? A preacher? Is this some twisted form of rehab?"  
"Something like that." He paused for a second, then continued his analysis of my character. "You dress like a boy so people won't be hesitant about fighting you because you're a girl."  
"You sure do seem to be able to tell me stuff I already know," I sneered, "so why don't you tell me something I don't know? Why am I here?"  
"I've already answered that question. I want to know if you have what it takes to survive and, perhaps, to help other people learn the same lesson of survival." John turned around and put his hands up in a surrendering gesture. "Now, you have a choice. You can use that knife in your hand or anything you can find in this room to kill me, or you can help me with my work."  
I hesitated. The thing that I knew I should do was kill him, but I've never had to kill someone before, especially like this. Yet I wasn't sure if I really wanted to help him with his "work" either.  
"Tell me more about your so-called work before I make a decision," I said.  
Instead of answering my question, he said, "Do you have what it takes to survive, Pamela?"  
My breath caught in my throat. "How...how do you know my real name?"  
John put his hands down and turned back towards me. "You might be familiar with my wife, Jill."  
I shook my head slightly. "Doesn't ring a bell."  
"Jill Kramer. Although I guess it's Jill Tuck now," he sighed.  
Then it hit me. "Jill Kramer? From the Rehab Clinic?"  
"Yes. She helped you with your addiction to marijuana. She's told me a lot about you, Puzzle."  
_That's more like it._ My full name is Pamela Zoe Lewis. My initials are PZL, which, when said out loud, sounds like Puzzle, my nickname. Barely anybody knows my real name, and I like to keep it that way.  
"Although," he continued, "she never cured you of your addiction to selfishness."  
"What are you talking about? I do whatever it takes to survive. Nothing more, nothing less."  
"Is stealing from innocent people vital to your survival?"  
"Uh, yeah. Unless I want to go hungry." _Who does this guy think he is?_ I thought angrily.  
John shook his head disappointedly. "Do you value your life?" He asked, instead of continuing his previous topic.  
I laughed cooly. "Not much to value, being a fifteen-year-old without a home but, yeah. I guess I do. Now, tell me about your work and why you want me to help you with it."  
"Most people are so ungrateful to be alive," he started. He explained to me how he believed that people only really start appreciating the life they have right before they're about to die. He also told me that he tried to commit suicide by driving his car off a cliff after his wife had a miscarriage and he found out he was dying from cancer. That was the act that started his idea. He found that, as soon as he was about to die, he wanted to make the most of the life he had left.  
"I know the feeling," I mumbled. "I tried to commit suicide by cutting my wrists after my mom died and my dad became a drunk." The experience, though mentally scarring at the time, didn't bother me anymore. I like to learn from my mistakes and move on.  
"So you understand the feeling of survival?" He asked.  
"Yes."  
"Now, you're actually here by mistake," he said, "but I think this mistake has benefited both of us. My wife accidentally injected you with a drug that was meant for Cecil when you tried to attack her."  
I grimaced, remembering the incident clearly. I was at some festival, and I desperately needed money for food. I just grabbed the first purse I saw. "Is that Cecil?" I asked, nodding at the corpse tangled in the wire.  
"Yes."  
"He must be here for a reason. What did he do?"  
"He killed my unborn child by causing my wife to have a miscarriage," he growled.  
"So you killed him?"  
"No. I still gave him a chance to survive, but for a price."  
"What was the price?" I can't say I was loving what this man was saying, but I was intrigued by the idea of his "work". To me, it made sense.  
"He had to cut his face." John walked over to the chair and started telling me how it worked. Cecil was bound to the chair and a wall of knives were placed in front of his face. If he could push his face through the knives, his restraints would release him. It was overall a clever design.  
"How did he end up in there?" I asked, pointing to the razor wire.  
"The restraints broke," John said. "He tried to attack me and got himself tangled in there."  
I walked over to the body of Cecil. "So he was, how did you put it? Missing a vital piece of the human puzzle?"  
John nodded.  
"So tell me why you need me again?"  
"You are one of the few people who would understand my work," he explained, "and you live on the streets. You know a lot about the daily lives of people who live here. You know more than I would ever know."  
"So you need me to, what, single out the victims?"  
"Ultimately, yes."  
I considered this for awhile. Then I said, "you would need a way to disguise yourself and your voice, so that if they survive the trap, they can't turn you in to the police."  
John looked at me thoughtfully as I continued.  
"You'll also need to start with people who really have given up on life. You know, drug addicts, suicidal people, the like. You can't just grab any random bystander off the street and put them in a fight for their survival. And the traps should actually put them in a situation where they're going to die if they don't 'pay the price'."  
"So will you help me?" John asked. I nodded and turned back to Cecil.  
"When the police find this, they'll want to know who did it and why. We need a way to let them know that he was missing the instinct for survival." I just realized that I was still holding my knife. And that my hand was stinging and dripping blood. I walked over to Cecil's body and cleaned knife on my shirt before I started cutting into his skin. "The police will think it's a calling card, but you and I will know its real meaning." I peeled off the skin and stepped back. It wasn't perfect, but you could clearly see a puzzle piece gouged into Cecil's skin. I turned to John, who I saw was smiling at my work.  
"Perfect," he said. He turned to me. "We'd better go before the police find this. Do you know where we could go?"  
I nodded. "I know an abandoned warehouse we could go to. Nobody ever goes there besides a maintenance man who's supposed to check up on the place every couple of months. He never does anymore, though. He usually just comes once or twice a year."  
It took about two hours to gather up all of the necessary supplies and move to the warehouse. It was fairly large, completely abandoned, and a perfect place to start our work.  
And thus began my apprenticeship to the famous Jigsaw Killer.

_**So what did you think? I know it's a short chapter, but I'm hoping to make them longer as I go on. This is more of a test chapter to see if this story will work. Please review and keep on reading!**_


	2. Chapter 2 - The Imposter

_**Hey guys! I'm finally done with another chapter! This one took me a little longer than expected, especially since it's pretty short. It's not that surprising, however, since I'm currently working on a whole array of other projects, including my Soul Eater story, which I am hoping to update a week or two from now. Not much action in this chapter, but hopefully there will be some in the following chapter. I hope you enjoy! Also, thanks to screamfan for commenting! You rock!**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Saw franchise**_

"What's that?" John asked, looking over my shoulder at my sketches. It had been two months since we started, and we already put four more people through our "games", earning John a reputation as the Jigsaw Killer. I smiled when I brought the newspapers in, showing John how our work was starting to affect the outside world. He didn't like the name, stating for about the millionth time that he wasn't a killer (I, personally, thought the name was pretty cool), but he liked the attention it was getting.

"Soon people will start to realize how we decide the players in our games," he said, "then the people who have never been in our games will be just as influenced by them as the people in our games."

We decided that we would record tapes for the players to hear in their traps and disguise John's voice by slowing down the audio. Soon, though, we ran into problems. Like the fact that some traps didn't allow people to grab the tapes and play them. Thus, Billy was born.

Billy is a puppet John created to be the "face of the Jigsaw killer". He would be "the first face they saw when they woke up, and the face that would mark their rebirth".

"The face of rebirth is creepy as hell," I said.

"The people playing our games do not deserve a kind face," John replied, a statement I had to agree with.

Then I found out that the puppet was based off of a toy he was going to give to his child, which is really the whole reason he started this in the first place. I thought that was kinda cool as well.

I named the creepy-as-hell puppet Billy after the first person we used it on. We usually only used Billy if the person playing wasn't able to physically operate the tape player, like if they were shackled or restrained in any way. We'd record him before hand, then wait until the person woke up and start the video by remote control.

"It's a reverse bear trap," I replied, not turning away from my work. "It attaches to the persons upper and lower jaw. They have to find a key before it splits their jaw open."

"Do you know who the trap is for?"

"I have a few people in mind." I finished up my sketch and handed it to John. He inspected it and nodded approvingly.

"Where is the key going to be?" He asked, handing my sketch back to me.

"I'm thinking maybe somewhere embedded in the person's arm."

"Why's that?"

I explained about the two people who would most likely be the candidates for this game. One was a woman named Amanda Young, who was a heroine addict. The other was her drug dealer, a man by the name of Donald Greco, or Donnie. The key in his/her arm would symbolize the drug he/she is addicted to.

"I think this trap should be for Amanda. I have another game planned for Donnie." John said, "and I have a few revisions to make to your trap."

"Be my guest."

John took my drawing and grabbed a few more pieces of paper off of the desk I was working at.

"What's this?" He asked, picking up another one of my drawings that was under the pieces of paper.

"Just a project I'm working on," I dismissed the drawing with a wave of my hand. "I'm still in the planning process."

John studied the drawing for a second, then flipped over the paper and looked at my notes. "It's good," he commented. I tried to hide my embarrassment.

"I still need to figure out a few things, and even then it won't be perfect. So many things could go wrong," I insisted.

"Like...?"

"Like, one person has to kill another person, and the other person has to escape, right? Well, they might just sit there and not do anything and wait for someone to find them. The police would have to find them at some point."

"But if they aren't given food or water, there's no way for them to survive for a long period of time."

"So what? If two people go missing on the exact same day around the exact same time, the police are going to investigate it as soon and as much as they can," I argued. "We need to establish a time limit somehow."

John looked at me over the top of the paper. "I think I know what to do. Can I keep this for awhile?" I shrugged. "Sure." I was a little bit disappointed that he didn't let me finish the game on my own, but I was sure he had his reasons. Plus, he would run his ideas by me anyway, so there was really nothing to worry about.

"Meanwhile, can you get everything set up for the next game?" John asked. He handed me a few drawings and diagrams. At the top of each one of them, the name Donald "Donnie" Greco was written in cursive. I nodded, and we both went our separate ways.

_So this is Donnie's game_, I thought. I looked over the pictures and diagrams and made my way to the back of the warehouse. Standing in front of a bulletin board, I pinned each of the drawings and diagrams to it in a perfect straight line.

I faintly wondered why John didn't tell me about Donnie's game sooner, but then I remembered that I just started keeping an eye on him last week. This must've been a last-second decision.

But, still. He could've told me.

Taking one more look at the sketches, I walked though the tables of traps until I came to the one I was looking for.

The trap in question was another one of my designs. It was a collar with two spring-loaded clamps on the sides. Each set of clamps was just big enough to hold one syringe and could be tightened with a screw. On the back of the collar was a small padlock that could be opened by a key. The collar was on a timer. If the player didn't get the collar off in time...well...you should know what happens by now.

I picked up the trap and brought it over to one of the desks under the bulletin board.

"John!" I called, walking over to where I saw him last.

"Down here!" He called back. I walked down the stairs and found John rummaging through some of the items I scavenge for our games.

"Where's the poison for the syringes?" I asked.

"Don't use poison," John replied, not turning away from his work. "Use the heavy sedatives."

"Why?"

"I have a feeling," John pulled a few gears out of the pile and inspected them, "Mr. Greco will play a large role in Amanda's game."

"Do you want to tell me what that role is?" I asked, a little frustrated.

"Not yet." John put one of the gears back in the pile and took the other two with him upstairs. I sighed and followed suit, returning to my own work area.

I grabbed the sedatives and three syringes from my storage area. Taking two of the syringes, I placed them in the trap, tightened the screws, and set off the trap. After watching it spring into action, I made a few adjustments, then tried again and again until the results were satisfactory, making minor adjustments between tests.

I walked over to where John was working. With him he had various pieces of metal, including the two gears I saw him grab earlier. He looked at my drawing of the reverse bear trap, then moved the pieces of metal just so.

"John, I'm gonna go try to get Donnie to sell me some drugs."

"Where are you going to tell him to meet you?" He asked.

"Outside the warehouse."

"When?"

"I dunno. Later tonight, probably."

John nodded and I ran down the stairs and out of the warehouse.

There was no time to waste. I knew where Donnie usually sold his goods, so I started to casually walk there immediately. I walked a few blocks before I came across two teenage boys looking at a newspaper article. I caught a glimpse of the headline Jigsaw Killer Strikes Again and pretended to tie my shoe as I listened to their conversation.

"His name is Seth Baxter," one of the boys said. "He's a murderer. He got what he deserved, in my opinion."

I switched to my other shoe, listening even more intently to their conversation. We never tested a man named Seth Baxter...

"Jigsaw's a murderer," the other boy argued.

"No he's not. He's a genius. What a good way to keep the low-lives out of this world."

"But they say that he gives his victims a chance to live."

"Oh, pu-leez." The boy tossed the paper into a nearby trash can. "Everybody knows his traps are rigged. Why do you think nobody has ever won any of his 'games'?" The two boys walked away and I stood up and walked over the the trash can. I pulled out the paper and skimmed over the article, getting angrier with each word I read.

Looks like Donald Greco would have to wait.

* * *

"Look at this!"

I threw the newspaper in front of John, right on top of the notes he was taking on Amanda. He looked up at me, then picked up the paper and started reading it.

"Who does this guy think he is?!" I started pacing back and forth across the room. "I can't believe it! A _pendulum_ trap? Really?! How unoriginal can you get?"

I caught a glimpse of John reading the article, his hands shaking.

"Not only that, but he wasn't even given a chance! He was supposed to crush his hands to stop the pendulum and he did, but they found his body _completely cut in half!_

John turned to me. His hand had stopped shaking and his face was completely calm, but I could see the anger brewing in his gaze.

"Do you know who might've done this?" He asked, his voice as steady as his expression (minus the eyes).

I stopped pacing. "No, but I can find out."

"What about Donald Greco?"

"What about him? He can wait. This is way more important."

John set the paper down. "I'm glad you see it that way."

"What are you planning to do with him?" I asked, slightly curious.

John stood up and put Amanda's notes in her file. "Whoever did this has potential," he said, "he just needs to be put in the right frame of mind."

"You're not actually going too..." My voice trailed off as John nodded. "Whatever," I sighed. "You're the boss, John."

_Why would John want whoever did that as an apprentice?_ I thought, my anger rising. _Aren't I good enough?_

John nodded at all of the files we've started. "Can you look through those to see if you can find anybody who might've done this?"

I considered telling him to do it himself, but I decided to just nod and bite my tongue. As I walked over to the files, I instantly pushed my anger away. We needed someone else to help us. We've been getting way too far behind, and someone like that might already have the right frame of mind. We would just need to teach them our way of doing things.

After I had searched through the files for about an hour, I found three people who might be the Jigsaw Imposter. The first one was a man named Jeff Denlon, whose son was run over by a drunk driver named Timothy Young. I instantly discarded this one, since his son wasn't murdered by Seth Baxter, but this file had information on Timothy Young, a man who developed a drinking problem after his wife was murdered by Seth Baxter. I decided to keep it out along with Young's file, as Timothy Young was the second person I found. The third person was Mark Hoffman, a man who became overly depressed after his sister was killed by Seth Baxter.

I carefully looked through each of their files. Out off all of them, Hoffman seemed the most likely candidate because, well, just look at his file.

_Name: Hoffman, Mark_

_Occupation: Police Officer_

_Game: N/A_

_Results: N/A_

_Reason for Game: Needs to let go of his sister's death and continue on with his life_

_Notes: _

_-Sister killed by Seth Baxter (see file) putting him in a state of depression_

_-Has violent tendencies, though he is good at controlling his anger_

_-Deals with his sister's death by drinking at night _

_CAUTION: Always armed!_

Now look at Young's file.

_Name: Young, Timothy_

_Occupation: None_

_Game: N/A_

_Results: N/A_

_Reason for Game: Needs to let go of his wife's death; has a drinking problem; killed a child while driving under the influence_

_Notes:_

_-Wife killed by Seth Baxter (see file) putting him in a state of depression_

_-Developed drinking problem because of his wife's death_

_-Is always drunk_

_-Lost job because of drinking problem_

_-Killed Jeff Denlon's son (see file) while driving under the influence_

It made sense. For one thing, Timothy Young was always drunk, so he probably wouldn't be able to create something like the pendulum trap. For another thing, Hoffman is a cop. He would easily be able to cover up his murder by removing evidence from the crime scene.

Which made him all the more useful to us.

I took a look at the fourth file I pulled out and made a few adjustments.

_Name: Baxter, Seth _

_Occupation: Drug Dealer_

_Game: Pendulum (Created by Mark Hoffman (see file))_

_Results: Failure (Game was rigged)_

_Reason for Game: Murdered multiple women; sells drugs _

_Notes:_

_-Given a life sentence after murdering Mark Hoffman's sister_

_-Was released after five years due to legal technicality_

_ -Becomes a woman's boyfriend through lies, then murders her _

_-Was put in an imposter Jigsaw Game by Mark Hoffman_

_ -Deceased_

"Did you find someone yet?"

I had a mini-heart attack as John snuck up behind me.

"Don't do that!" I turned away from Seth's file and looked up at John. "Yes, I found someone." I handed him Hoffman's file.

"Are you positive it's him?"

"Yes. No one else would've been able to pull this off. I'm sure of it." I picked up the files and set them on the desk. While I was doing that, I realized my hands were shaking. Did John really scare me that badly? I shook my head slightly and tried to cover up the shakiness by talking.

"I don't really know for sure, but I'm positive it's him," I started, "I mean, I don't know anyone else who would have the motive, or the means of doing this. But if we kidnap him, and he isn't the one who did it, then we would really be doing it for no reason, and that completely defeats the purpose of…"

I realized that John had stopped reading Hoffman's file and that he was looking at me with an amused look in his eye. I realized I had started talking incomprehensibly fast. I could feel myself blush.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

John looked back at the file, pretending not to have noticed. "This is him, I'm sure," he said. "I want you to keep tabs on him for the next week or so. See what he does and how he acts around other people. The usual."

"Okay," I replied, still a little ashamed of myself. I grabbed Hoffman's file and brought it back to my work area. I laid out the pictures on my desk and pretended to study them as I wondered why I was so nervous and jittery. There's no way John startled me that badly, so then what was it? My eyes flitted from picture to picture as I tried to memorize the details but didn't really pick up anything. I started staring at one picture, trying desperately to memorize Hoffman's features and surroundings when it hit me.

_I'm going to be replaced…_

**_Another chapter down! Next chapter, Hoffman comes in, along with some new challenges for our main protagonist (or antagonist? Depends on how you look at it) Puzzle. Let me know what you think! Leave a review, and keep on reading!_**


	3. Chapter 3 - Their Rivalry Has Just Begun

_**I'm gonna keep this intro short and sweet. Mark Hoffman has come, and he and Puzzle are already butting heads. Enjoy!**_

Every time that thought came to mind, I would brush it away. I mean, it's ridiculous, right? I'm John's first apprentice. Why would he want to replace me? But, as John was talking to Mark, I couldn't get rid of the feeling that no good could come from him.  
"Can I talk to him?" I asked as I saw John stepping out of the room.  
John nodded. "Don't start fighting," he warned as I walked into the room.  
Hoffman was sitting down, resting his head in his hands. I pretended to be busy fixing Billy as I waited for him to notice me. He finally looked up and we locked eyes.  
"Who are you?" He asked.  
I shrugged. "Depends," I replied.  
"On what?"  
"On if I decide to trust you or not." I made myself comfortable in the chair Hoffman was previously bound to.  
Hoffman sighed. "Where did I go wrong?" He asked.  
"Well, you murdered a man, for one thing," I started.  
"You didn't need to answer that. That question was completely rhetorical."  
"I know." I smiled.  
"So, what are you doing here?"  
"I'm John's apprentice, and I guess you're my partner."  
Hoffman tensed up slightly. "You don't seem too happy about that."  
"Truthfully, I'm not." I stood up and walked over to the table. I started fiddling with the reverse bear trap, just finished by John. "I honestly don't think you have what it takes."  
"What are you talking about?" I could tell Hoffman's anger was rising.  
I stopped fiddling with the reverse bear trap. I walked over to the filing cabinet and took out Mark's and Seth's file. Walking over to Mark, I tossed them on his lap. "Why don't you tell me?"  
Hoffman picked up the files and started to look through them. Then he looked up at me. "Listen here, kid. I could turn you in if I wanted to." He said it calmly and blandly, all of his anger gone. This would be a hard test for him to fail, but I still had a few tricks up my sleeve.  
"Oh really? What would happen to you after everybody found out about your little Edgar Allen Poe contraption?"  
"Nobody would find out, because after I turned you in, I would take your little trap and put it on John. Give him a taste of his own medicine." He didn't scream, didn't shake, didn't seem angry in any way. I admit, it was interesting to watch. I laughed.  
"How are you going to do that? You don't even know where the sedatives are, much less how to set the trap up correctly." I took my switchblade out of my pocket and pressed the button, ejecting the blade. I pointed the blade at his chest. "Listen here, you ungrateful bastard. John and I have worked hard at this, and we don't need it ruined by a baby crying for his dead sister."  
Hoffman's fists clenched. I had him right where I wanted him.  
"How'd it feel, seeing her body?" I asked, putting the tip of the knife to Hoffman's chest. "Did you cry?"  
I didn't scream as he punched me. I just laughed. Looking at Hoffman, I smiled.  
"That was your first test." I wiped the blood off of my cheek. "And you failed."

"Was that necessary?" John asked as I walked out of the room, leaving Mark with his thoughts.  
"Completely."  
John followed me as I walked to my desk. He sighed.  
"Can you create two simple traps?" He asked. "Something that I can construct within a few hours?"  
"Sure." John walked away and I grabbed a few pieces of paper and started thinking of ideas. I came up with two pretty good ones. The first one involved a timer, a trap door, and a lot of barbed wire. The second one would take a little longer to prepare for, but it was still pretty cool. In fact, it was my favorite by far.  
"How's it going?" John asked. I handed him my sketches.  
"Perfect," he said, "I'll get started on this one right away." He took the barbed wire trap plans and handed me back the plans for what I like to call the numbers trap, which I tacked to the cork board.  
"Are you going to do these with Hoffman?" I called as he started walking away.  
"Mhm," John replied. I sighed, wondering how this new apprentice thing would work out.

_What goes around comes around._  
That was what was written on a paper that I found tacked to the corkboard above my desk after I had returned after collecting information on Amanda. It wasn't that hard. She was obsessed with heroine and would pay attention to nothing else. I did not have high hopes for her.  
It's been a week since Mark started his apprenticeship, and I knew he wanted to get me back after our first encounter. The thing is, he was so subtle about his emotions that I barely knew what was in store for me once be got his revenge. Would he be angry enough to kill me? I had no idea.  
Well, until now, I guess. What goes around comes around. I'm pretty sure that doesn't mean he's going to kill me for insulting him. Maybe he wouldn't do anything and just wait until the offences pile up and then kill me. He seems like the kind of guy who would do just that.  
I sighed and ripped the paper off of the cork board. I was about to crumple it into a ball, but then I saw something written on the other side.  
_Consider this your first test_.  
Okay, that freaked me out. I folded up the slip of paper and wondered what my "first test" would be.  
I walked over to Mark's area, which was now furnished with a desk and a swivel chair. I slapped the folded piece of paper in front of him. "Subtle."  
"Thank you." Mark moved the paper out of the way and continued with his work. Looking over his shoulder, I saw the plans for a trap that actually looked pretty effective.  
"What's this?" I asked, snatching the blueprints away. Hoffman looked up at me calmly as I read the plans for the trap. "Okay, this is pretty good, except for one thing. What happens to the person who loses?"  
"They die," Hoffman said, taking the blueprints back.  
I wasn't shocked. I knew he would try somethg like this at some point. Hovever, I was angry. "It doesn't work like that!" I exclaimed. "They both have to have an equal chance for survival! And this..." I grabbed a different blueprint. It was the plans for a trap that involved two men connected by chains. One of them had his eyes sewn shut and one of them had his mouth sewn shut. "What is this? You can't just have people fight to the death! That's not how this works!"  
"Look, kid. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but the traps that you or John design aren't exactly the most humane ways of rehab either. Now, go off and do your thing, and let me do mine."  
"At least my games have a point! These competition traps are just..." I threw the piece of paper to the ground. "...cruel. Just cruel."  
"And your 'games' aren't?" He used finger quotes around the word "games".  
"At least mine give people an actual chance for survival."  
"Some chance," Mark snorted.  
Obviously, Mark is much better at controlling his anger than I am, because the next thing I did was rip up the blueprints for the game he was currently working on. Mark didn't even bat an eye.  
"I needed to make a few adjustments anyway." He pulled out a new sheet of paper.  
Knowing that it was pointless to argue with him, I mumbled something about going outside to clear my head and walked out of the warehouse that police were still too stupid to find. I mean, seriously? We're the most known criminal out there! You'd think they'd be making a bigger effort to find us.  
Whatever. Their loss, our gain.  
I took a deep breath in the chilly night air. The street was completely vacant at this hour of the night, and the quietness was very peaceful. _Calm down, Puzzle. He's just trying to push your buttons._  
I decided to take a walk around to clear my mind a little bit. Walking down the block, I suddenly felt...unsafe. I knew that someone was following me. I could feel someone's gaze prickling the hair on the back of my neck, and I could hear another set of footsteps that stopped when I stopped, and walked when I walked.  
Reaching into my pocket, I took out my switchblade. I took a few more steps, hearing the echoing footsteps that were too heavy to be mine, then stopped and spun around, knife at the ready.  
"Who's there?" I asked the empty darkness in front of me. The few streetlights that illuminated the sidewalk were very dim, so I still had to strain to see into the darkness. There was no one.  
I was about to turn around when I felt a hand clamp over my mouth. I stabbed this same hand with my switchblade, and the person who it belonged to gave a yell of pain and fury. I ran forward a few steps, then turned around and saw who it was.  
My mind instantly shot to the file.  
_ Mark Rodriguez Wilson, numbers trap, cheats on his workers comp so he can go get drunk._  
There was something that I didn't put on that file, because I knew that if I did, would never be able to detach from this case emotionally, like John taught me to do.  
"You filthy bitch!" He called, slurring his words a little."Did you think that you could just run away from me?!"  
"Actually, I did that years ago." I said as I dodged his fist. I ran at Mark and punched him in the face, not stopping until I heard his teeth break.  
"Maybe if you come with me right now I won't kill you, you good-for-nothing slut!"  
I jabbed my knife into his shoulder and he screamed in anger. His fist collided with my jaw clumsily. Despite the pain, I managed to trip him. Kneeling on his chest, I slammed his head into the pavement once, twice, three times. Before he lost conciousness, he mumbled something very faint, and I could barely hear it.  
"He told me where you were. Said something about a test."  
Mark.  
Fuck you.  
I stood up and took my phone out of my pocket. It was a very cheap model that I only used in emergencies.  
I mean, it wasn't like I had any friends to text.

_Good job. I'm sure you'll be happy to know that your thug is currently unconscious about a block away from the warehouse. If you come and help me bring him back, I just might not call the police._

I rubbed my sore jaw. A few seconds later, the phone buzzed.

_You passed your first test? I'm surprised. I'll be there in a few minutes._

I sighed. I was exasperated and tired to the point of disbelief.

_Yeah, you chose a nice person to give me my first test. Nice and personal._

_Oh yeah?_

_Yeah. That was my dad._

**_Dun dun duuuuuuuuun!  
So, what did you think? (Yes, I know that he and Puzzle don't have the same last name. I'm getting there.) It's a little shorter than usual but, as stated before, I'm pretty busy with my life right now, and I wanted to get this one posted by this weekend because I'll be away for a week and I won't have time to write. Please leave a review, and tell me what you think! I love to see your guys' input on this story, and I especially love all of the great reviews I'm getting! Thanks so much!_**


	4. Chapter 4 - An Endless Family Feud

**_I finally finished another chapter! Woohoo! This one is a little short, just to let you know. Also, thanks for the awesome reviews! You guys make my day!  
Disclaimer: I do not own the Saw franchise. If I did, it wouldn't be mostly torture porn._**

"Where am I?! What the fuck is going on?!"  
I heard Mark screaming, and I knew that he had woken up. Putting on the cape and the pig mask, I made my way to the room where he was being held.  
"Are you sure you want to do this?" John asked me.  
I was too shocked to answer. John never said anything like that to me. He always wanted me to face my fears, not hide from them.  
"I have to," I finally said, making sure the cape completely covered my body. I grabbed an empty syringe to add to the effect. "How do I look?"  
"Like the Jigsaw Killer," John said, nodding approvingly. I saw a look of pride in his eyes, and I wondered briefly if he saw me not as his apprentice, but as his daughter.  
I'd do anything to have a father like John. Gideon would've been a lucky boy.  
"Thanks," I said. "I'd better go in now. The sooner I can get this mask off, the better."  
I heard John chuckling as I started to walk towards the man who had condemned me to years of pain.  
"Who-who are you?!" He screamed. I didn't answer, but instead set the syringe on a table. Then I took my mask off and turned to face my father.  
"You!" He started to struggle against his restraints. "You bitch!"  
I took off the cape and draped it over Billy. I grabbed a chair and spun it around so I could rest my arms on the back.  
"Sober yet?" I asked, sitting in the chair. "Because I'm not gonna talk to you unless you can talk civily to me."  
"I don't want to talk to you!" He screamed. I shrugged.  
"Okay then." I stood up and pushed the chair to the side. Waking over to the table, I grabbed the blueprints for the trap we were currently setting up. The numbers trap. I walked over to my dad and put the blueprints in his lap. He looked down at them, shocked.  
"This is your game." I turned around and walked to the middle of the room. "The floor will be covered with glass." I turned back towards the man in the chair. "You will be stripped naked and smothered in a flammable liquid. Your body will be injected with a poison. The antidote will be in the safe, on top of which is a candle, which will be your only source of light. The combination to the safe will be written on the walls. Thousands and thousands of numbers written on the walls. Now you can go through that," I pulled the chair towards me and sat in it, "or we can talk."  
It was an act, of course. A show. My father was going to play his game no matter what he did.  
Mostly because I knew he wouldn't want to talk to me.  
Mark looked at me in the eye. "I'm sorry!" He sputtered. "You know I was drunk when I beat you, when I called you names! Please don't-"  
"Oh, shut up!" I pulled my switchblade out of my pocket and ejected the knife. Jumping out of the chair, I held the knife up to Mark's neck. "You're pathetic," I sneered. Mark leaned back as far as he could, but my knife stayed pressed against his neck. "You're not sorry, you're just too afraid to die." I turned around, grabbed my syringe, and started slowly filling it with sedatives.  
"You wouldn't."  
"Oh yeah?" I turned around, syringe ready. "Ever heard of the Jigsaw Killer?" I asked, putting the syringe to my father's neck. "Well, that's me."  
He laughed. "You're the Jigsaw Killer? You worthless thing? You can't be. You're too much like your mother."  
I jabbed the needle into his neck, trying to make it as painful as possible.  
"At least my mother had the sense to leave a drunk like you."

* * *

"Can you read the combination to me?" I asked, paintbrush in hand. I looked over at John, who had a piece of paper covered in very small numbers.  
"3-7-2-5-9," he started.  
"Okay, that's good." I started painting the numbers on in red paint. "Next five," I said, after I was finished.  
It took us two hours to paint the whole combination on the walls. In that time, Mark Hoffman had already dragged the safe down there, injected my dad, smothered him in a flammable jelly, and covered the floor in broken glass. While I was painting the numbers, John would help Hoffman with his tasks.  
"Everything ready?" I asked, after I finished my last number.  
"Yeah," Hoffman said. He lit the candle and we walked out of the room, bolting the door behind us.  
"I hope he burns," I muttered under my breath. Of course, John heard me anyway.  
"Why do you hate him so much?" He asked.  
"What do you think? When my mom died, he got custody of me. He'd beat me when he was drunk, which was all the time." I shook my head. "There's a reason why I abandoned his name."  
"You go by your mothers maiden name," John guessed. I nodded.  
"I don't want anything of his in my name."  
"He chose your first name?"  
I nodded again.  
"And what about your middle name?"  
"My mom's name."  
"Ah."  
"So, who's next?" I asked, hopfully avoiding any more questions. "Donnie?"  
"I believe so," John replied. "Is the trap ready?"  
"For the most part. I'll probably have to make a few adjustments when we get back."

* * *

An hour later, I knew the sedatives had worn off, and I made my way back to the room where we left my father.  
I watched him through a hole in the wall, and relished his screams as he started to burn. Afterwards, I opened the door and cut a puzzle piece into his sizzling flesh.  
So far, many people have tried, but nobody has won our games. As I walked away, bolting the door behind me, I wondered how long it would take before our players became victims.  
I'm guessing it won't be long...

**_What did you think? Read, review, and all that fun stuff. Amanda is going to come in with in the next few chapters! Lets see if she does better than Hoffman...  
(Pssst! If you've seen the movies, you probably know what's gonna happen XD)_**


	5. Chapter 5 - It Isn't Easy

**_Alright guys, this intro is gonna be pretty long, so bear with me. This will probably be my last announcement until the end of this fanfic.  
I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that this is my second-to-last chapter :(. After this, there will be another chapter and a short epilogue, which will be told in the typical Saw fashion (I'd suggest playing Hello Zep-the Saw theme-while reading the epilogue to make it that much more epic :D).  
Anyway, on to the good news. The good news is that I'm planning on writing some one-shot Saw crossovers. However, I need some ideas for them. I have a few ideas for some crossovers I want to do, but I want to hear what you guys think first. Suggest a show, book, anything that you would like to see be put in a Saw crossover.  
But with every Saw-related-thing, there are rules...  
1. I'm only gonna write a story about something I know a lot about. You can suggest whatever you want, but if I don't know anything about it, I won't write about it. Sorry!  
2. You have to be willing to have some characters die. (Need I remind you about 99.9% of the Saw franchise?) If you do not want a certain character(s) to die, PM me and I'll see what I can do.  
Thanks for reading all the way through this! If you made it to the end, make sure to put the word Scrabble somewhere in your review, because Jigsaw likes games XD. And so I know that at least SOME of you read this monster of an intro. Thanks again!  
Disclaimer: I do not own the Saw franchise_**

"I can't believe you actually did it."  
I didn't turn away from the syringe I was filling when I replied.  
"Hatred can do a lot to people." I set the syringe down and started filling the other one. "So, how many tests of yours have I passed?"  
"Three."  
"Three?" I started placing the syringes in the collar.  
"You passed the first one when you didn't get killed, you passed the second one when you didn't strike out at your father, and you passed the third one when you went through with putting your father in a trap."  
I turned towards Mark, trap in hand. "You gonna help me with this or what?"  
"I think I'll choose the 'or what'."  
Mark smirked and I stuck my tongue out at him.  
"Oh, real mature."  
"You're one to talk." I shook my head, picking up a third syringe and handing it to Hoffman. "I'll distract him. All you need to do is inject him. Do you know how to work a syringe?"  
"No. I think I need to practice on you." Mark lunged at me, jabbing the syringe in my neck.  
"Do it," I hissed. "I dare you."  
He hesitated, then ripped the syringe out of my neck. I rubbed the sore spot.  
"I hate you," I spat.  
"Love you too." Hoffman followed me outside. It was a cold night. Clouds covered the moon.  
We walked in silence for a few blocks. Then we turned the corner and I held out my hand.  
"He's just down there. I'm gonna go talk to him and you sneak up behind him."  
I walked up to Donnie. He looked over at me and smiled.  
"Hey, what's up Puzzle Piece?" He called. I cringed, knowing the hell I was about to put him through.  
See, when I lived on the street, Donnie was like a father to me. He'd give me food and protection and, in return, I'd help him sell his drugs.  
That was about as good of a relationship as I could get.  
He's actually the one who came up with my nickname. We were just talking one night and I said that I felt like a puzzle piece missing its puzzle. From then on, he started to call me puzzle piece. Now that I look back on it, the nickname is childish and stupid, but it was all that I had that wasn't my father's.  
"Uh, hi Donnie." _Detach yourself from all emotion_. I reminded myself. _Never get emotionally involved._  
"What's been happening?" He asked. I shrugged.  
_Donnie's strong. He can get through this. He'll pass._  
"Oh, nothing much. I've just been hanging out on my own for awhile."  
"Still holdin' on?"  
"Oh yeah. I'm doing better than ever."  
Donnie must've seen how tense I was. "Hey, kid. What's wrong?" He asked. I saw Mark sneaking up behind him.  
"I'm sorry, Donnie," I said as Mark started to inject him. "It's for your own good."

* * *

"You knew him?"  
I had helped Mark drag Donnie back to the warehouse. Now we were putting the collar on him.  
"Yeah," I replied.  
"And you still let me inject him?"  
I nodded and Mark shook his head.  
"You will never cease to impress me."  
"You're supposed to detach from all emotion," I said, adjusting the collar one last time before I locked it. "It's the..."  
"Rule," Mark finished. "Why does John call these things games? Does he think it will make them any less threatening?"  
"Life is a game." I started to cut open Donnie's arm and stitch the key inside. "Sometimes people need to be taught the rules. That's where we come in."  
Mark didn't say anything. He just watched as I finished stitching up Donnie's arm, then helped me strap him to a chair and set the timer up.  
"Here." I handed Mark the tape we recorded earlier that day, then grabbed the bucket full of bleach we had brought down and started to clean up the blood with a rag. Mark put the tape in the TV and made sure it worked before rewinding the tape and turning the TV off.  
"Come on, lets go. Before he wakes up." I grabbed the bucket and rag and left the room. Mark bolted the door behind us.  
"I'd say we have about half an hour before he wakes up," Mark said. I nodded in agreement.  
"You start it this time." I handed Mark the remote for the TV. Mark took it and stuck it in his pocket. "I'm gonna go help John with the finishing touches to Amanda's game."  
I turned away before Mark could reply.

* * *

"Hey John," I greeted when I saw him sitting at his desk.  
"Hey Puzzle."  
"Ugh, don't call me that anymore," I said, kneeling on the ground next to him. "It's childish. And besides, my father is dead. It doesn't matter anymore."  
I got a little annoyed as I saw an amused glimmer in John's eyes.  
"Okay, Pamela. Why don't you test out the reverse bear trap?"  
I picked up the trap and sat cross-legged on the floor, setting the trap in front of me.  
"It needs an extra gear on the right side," I told John after I had tested it a few times without success. I set the trap back on John's desk. "It should be okay after that."  
John nodded. "Alright. Can you..."  
"Pam."  
I jumped as Mark spoke behind me.  
"What?" I asked, turning to face him.  
"Im so sorry." I could see the contempt in his eyes. "Donnie failed his test."  
"Already?" I asked. "He wasn't supposed to wake up yet!" I ran away from Mark and John, tears welling in my eyes. I didn't care if they saw that I was emotionally attached to Donnie. I didn't care anymore.

* * *

I knelt next to Donnie, who was laying on the ground. Not dead, but as good as dead.  
"Pamela?"  
"Go away." _Don't cry. Don't cry._  
"You knew him?" John knelt next to me, putting his hand on my shoulder.  
"Yeah," I sniffed. _Whatever you do, don't cry._  
"It's okay to cry."  
Needless to say, I was shocked.  
"Don't get emotionally attached," I mumbled. "That's the rule."  
"Do you want me to leave you alone?" John asked. I nodded, and he stood up and left. Only then did I allow myself to cry.  
I glanced down at Donnie's motionless body, then took a second look.  
"Wait a minute." I said aloud, wiping the tears from my eyes. "This doesn't look right."  
Donnie's body, at first glance, looked like he had just failed his test. I don't know if his body was placed weird or what, but I knew that something wasn't right. I decided to take a closer look.  
I examined the chair he was tied to and noticed that his restraints, which he was supposed to break through himself, were simply untied. They didn't seem damaged or frayed at all, like they would if Donnie had broken through them.  
I walked over to where Donnie supposedly "failed". He was laying right in front of the tools we gave him to cut his arm with. When Donnie was able to grab the tools, the timer should've gone off. I checked Donnie's hand. In it was a scalpel, which I knew was impossible. The sedatives loosened up his body, so he should've dropped the scalpel. Also, his arm had one clean cut in it. Donnie's good at keeping his cool, but not that good. There would be stab marks, and the cut would be more jagged.  
"I'm sorry for your loss."  
I spun around. "You killed him," I hissed.  
"Technically, no." Mark smiled. "He's not dead yet."  
"But he will be, if Amanda decides to win her game," I said, contemplating hitting Mark, but deciding against it. "What do you want from me?"  
"Stay out of my way," Mark growled, "or John will be the next one to die."  
I started to walk away, not wanting Mark to see the tears running down my face. "I'm not leaving."  
"You don't have to leave. You just have to stay out of my way."

* * *

"Hi."  
I looked up, seeing a new face looking down at me as I made some finishing touches to my project.  
"Amanda, right?" I asked. The girl nodded. "So." I looked back down at my sketch. "You won your game."  
"You don't sound too happy about that."  
"That was my buddy you brutally murdered," I grumbled.  
"You're the one who put a key in his stomach," Amanda pointed out. "I didn't want to kill him, you know."  
A little bit of hostility, but no anger yet. I noted.  
"Yeah, yeah," I sighed. "You did whatever you had to to survive. Who was he, your boyfriend?"  
"He was my drug dealer," Amanda said. "My boyfriend is dead."  
"Wonderful," I mumbled.  
Amanda was silent for a second, then she spoke. "I don't know why you're being so angry towards me. I have as much of a right to be here as you do, kid."  
I looked back up at Amanda, contemplating whether I could trust her or not. I decided that I could and smiled. "Sorry about that," I said. "I was giving you a sort of...initiation, if that's what you want to call it." Looking back down at my sketch, I made a few adjustments, then flipped it over and started making notes on the two files I had laying open on my desk.  
"What are you working on?" Amanda asked.  
"Our next game," I replied.  
"Cool." Amanda seemed like a pretty excitable person. I wondered how long that would last.

* * *

"How do you do this all the time?" Amanda gasped, ripping off her mask.  
"You get used to it." I helped Amanda load Adam's body into the back of our car, then climbed into the passenger side. She drove the car to our little "hideout".  
"Just knowing the hell that we're about to put these guys through..."  
"Trust me, the feeling goes away," I reassured. "It helps to detach yourself emotionally."  
"Does it ever get easier?" She asked. I shrugged.  
"Yeah, I guess."  
When we got there, I helped her carry Adam in and chain him to the pipe in the bathroom. The guys had already brought Lawrence and chained him to a pipe on the opposite end of the room.  
"Is everything in place?" I asked John, who was pouring poisoned pig's blood on the ground and checking himself in the mirror.  
"Yes."  
I nodded. "Good." I surveyed the room quickly, double checking that everything was perfect. "What about Zep?"  
"Already done." John said.  
"See you in a few hours, John."  
John nodded and slowly laid himself down on the puddle of pig's blood as Amanda and I walked out of the room, closing the sliding door behind us.  
"It's not easy, is it?" Amanda asked.  
"No," I replied. "Not even close."

* * *

"You'll catch me when I fall?" Amanda joked as I held the syringe up to her neck.  
"Nope." I jabbed the needle into her skin. "You know what you need to do?"  
"Get Daniel out alive and make sure the game goes smoothly."  
"Alright." I injected Amanda with the sedatives and she fell to the floor in the old house we were using. Over by the door, John and Mark were setting up a gun, which was pointed at the eyehole.  
"Is the gas turned on?" I asked.  
"Not yet," John replied, testing out the gun.  
"I'll go do that. You guys almost done here?"  
Mark nodded and I started to leave as John went into a coughing fit and fell to his knees.  
"John!" I dashed over to him. Mark and I each put one of his arms over our shoulders and hauled him to his feet. "Are you okay?"  
"I'm fine," John whispered just as he went into another coughing fit.  
"You are not fine!" I adjusted his arm on my shoulder. I was about to leave him with Mark when I realized that this would be a perfect time for him to seriously hurt John, since I still wasn't sure if I "stayed out of his way" enough.  
"Mark, why don't you go turn on the gas? I'll help John out."  
Mark nodded with no sign of any emotion whatsoever.  
"I'm okay," John rasped. "It's just the..."  
"Disease," I whispered. "I know."

* * *

"You idiot!" I screamed when I saw Hoffman and Amanda help John in the warehouse. I had been pacing back and fourth all evening, waiting for the games to finish.  
"Pam, I'm okay." John voice was scratchy and strained when he spoke.  
"No, you're not!" I grabbed a rag and started to wipe off the blood on John's face as Mark and Amanda helped him sit in his wheelchair.  
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Amanda asked.  
"Bring me the the first aid kit," I ordered. A few minutes later, I was digging through the kit for some gauze and bandages.  
"Never." I started to wrap up John's broken finger. "Ever." I finished wrapping his finger and started to check him for more injuries. "Do that again."  
"I don't have much life left in me anyway," John sighed.  
"Don't say that!" Amanda and I exclaimed together.  
"You have plenty of life left," I said, hoping I was right.

* * *

I looked over some of Amanda's drawings. _Interesting_. I thought.  
Amanda had been with us for a few months now, and she was starting to work on some of her own traps. I was looking at the blueprints for a trap that would rip open someone's rib cage if they failed.  
"What are you doing?" Amanda asked as she walked up behind me.  
"Just looking at a few of your ideas," I said, not looking up from the blueprints. "They're pretty interesting. I hope you don't mind."  
"No, I don't mind." I looked up at Amanda, hearing the nervousness in her voice.  
"You okay?"  
"Yeah, I'm fine."  
I gave her a suspicious look, but otherwise decided to leave it alone.  
"Do you need any help setting up?" I asked.  
"No, that's okay." Amanda gathered up her blueprints and left the room just as Mark entered. I glared at him and he gave me an emotionless look.  
"I'd keep an eye on her if I were you," he said as soon as Amanda was out of hearing range.  
"Why should I?" I asked, annoyed.  
"She's unstable. Since she doesn't take heroine anymore, she has no way to cope with her mental health." Mark smirked. "Well, actually, I guess she has another way."  
"Which is...?"  
"When my partner and I were investigating the latest Jigsaw Killer crime scene, we found something very strange."  
I started to become impatient. "Quit with the riddles already and just tell me!"  
Mark waited a second before replying. "It was unbeatable," he said finally.  
"Mmmmhmm. Sure."  
"Here." Mark handed me a case file. "This proves it."  
I opened the file and quickly read through it. There were some notes scribbled on a piece of paper. The notes were written too neatly to be Mark's handwriting.  
_Door sealed shut. Unbeatable. Imposter Jigsaw Killer?_  
No. "Amanda is killing people?"  
"Seems so."  
"But... Amanda wouldn't do something like that!" I protested, shoving the file into Mark's hands.  
"She already has."  
"How do I know that you didn't rig the game?"  
"Why don't we look at some of Amanda's other games, shall we?" Mark opened Amanda's bottom drawer on her desk and took out the blueprints for the trap that would pull your rib cage apart. A few things were different from the one I looked at previously.  
The lock was in the back where the player couldn't reach it, for one thing. Another is that the trap would be connected to the rib cage directly instead of just clamped around the rib cage, like the last blueprint I looked at.  
I sat in Amanda's chair, completely shocked.  
"Here comes Amanda," Mark said. "I'll leave you two alone to talk it out."  
Sure enough, Amanda walked in as soon as Mark left.  
"Hey, Pam. Are you okay?" She asked when she saw me sitting in her chair.  
"You kill people," I mumbled.  
"What?" Amanda asked.  
I threw the blueprints at her. "You kill people, you fucking bitch!"  
"What are you talking about?!" Amanda screamed, scrambling to pick up the scattered pieces of paper.  
"I know what happened at the schoolhouse, Amanda."  
Amanda looked up from her gathering.  
"How-how do you know about that?" She stuttered.  
"Mark told me," I said.  
"How do you know he's telling the truth?"  
"Look at your fucking blueprints!"  
Amanda looked down at the ground, trying to take as long as possible to gather her papers. "He was just a convict," she mumbled. "He didn't deserve to live."  
"Everybody deserves to live!" I screamed, exploding with pure anger. "You'd better watch your back, Amanda!"  
Amanda stood up, the papers in her hands. "What are you going to do about it?" She challenged.  
"I'll call the police! I'll..." I contemplated my next response, and decided to go with it. "I'll tell John." I threatened.  
"You wouldn't!"  
I started towards the staircase. "Watch me!"  
The last thing I felt before passing out was something jabbing me in the neck.


	6. Chapter 6 - Her Final Test

I opened my eyes groggily and found myself sitting up against a metal object. I tried to push myself to my feet with my hands, but realized they were stuck behind my back. I got onto my knees and heard the rattle of chains.  
_She wouldn't..._  
Who says she wouldn't? Amanda has already probably killed multiple people. What's one more?  
_Is anyone there? _I tried to say, until I realized there was a gag in my mouth.  
I managed to stand up and survey my surroundings. I was in a basement somewhere. Not in the warehouse, of course. Amanda isn't that stupid.  
My hands were chained behind my back, and the chain was being fed into the metal pillar I was resting on. I turned around, and saw an electric saw blade placed at neck level  
_Oh shit_. I thought. _I know this trap._  
When the game starts, the saw turns on and the chains start slowly being pulled into the metal pillar.  
Which meant that, once Amanda came, I would have one minute to convince her to let me live.  
I tried to loosen my gag a little bit. It was tied so tight that my lips were cracking. I tilted my head to the side and rubbed the cloth on my shoulder, managing to loosen it up enough so that it didn't hurt. I tried pushing the gag out of my mouth with my tongue, but it wasn't loose enough. I shook my head back and forth, trying to loosen it up enough so that I could get the damn thing out of my mouth.  
I heard a door slam. Someone started running down the staircase. I stopped shaking my head and started to walk to the other side of the room, where the staircase was, when I saw Amanda. She pointed a gun at me.  
"On the ground!" She ordered. I got onto my knees, not wanting to lay down because I might've not been able to get up. "If you move, I'll shoot you."  
_Why doesn't she just shoot me and get it over with?_ I wondered, rubbing my cheek on shoulder again. _It would be much quicker._  
I managed to get the gag out of my mouth when I realized why.  
_This way she can just walk away, making the guilt easier for her to deal with. This way she doesn't have to see me die._  
"Amanda. Do you really want to do this?" I asked.  
"Shut up," Amanda hissed. I could hear hinges squeaking as she opened up a small door where the control panel was. There was a loud whirring noise as she pulled a lever, then closed and padlocked the door, shoving the key in her pocket.  
I got to my feet, knowing that I had ten seconds to stand up before I was yanked closer to the saw.  
_Stay calm, stay calm_. I knew that if I started to freak out, Amanda would leave.  
"Don't do this, Amanda." I stumbled as a foot of the chain was pulled into the pillar.  
"Shut up!"  
"Amanda, look at me."  
"No."  
The sound of the saw made me more frantic as another ten seconds went by and I was pulled closer. I had to constantly remind myself to stay calm.  
"Look at me, god damn it! Look at me when you're going to kill me!"  
_So much for staying calm_. I thought, regretfully. I expected Amanda to run up the stairs, but she turned towards me and looked me in the eye.  
I took a deep breath "Look, Amanda." _Choose your words carefully_. "You can't just kill someone without giving them a chance. I know you're going through some tough times, but please. Let me go. I can help you."  
I stumbled again as I was yanked closer to death.  
"I can help myself," Amanda mumbled bitterly.  
_Come on! Think! _I had twenty more seconds before the saw would be able to touch my neck.  
"We can just forget about this. Do you really want to kill me?"  
Amanda turned away, tears running down her face. "I'm sorry."  
"Stop! Police!"  
The chain was yanked again as I heard someone running down the stairs.  
_Mark?_  
I saw Mark and his partner, Sarah Ebbett, running into the basement, guns drawn.  
"I'll get Amanda." Mark ordered. "You stop the device."  
Sarah made quick work of finding the control panel.  
"It needs a key!" She called.  
"Shoot the damn lock off!" Mark called back.  
There was a loud bang! as Sarah shot the lock off of the door. She slammed it open just as the chain was yanked back and my neck hit the saw.  
"The lever!" I yelled. "Please, I don't have much time!"  
Blood was flying everywhere. The agony was almost too much to bear. I started to become dizzy, my vision edged with black.  
The machine stopped.  
"Are you alright?" Sarah asked as Mark tossed her a key that he got from Amanda. Sarah used it to unlock the chains from my wrists as I collapsed in her arms.  
"I'm dying from blood loss," I mumbled. "What do you think?"  
"I think that you're going to be just fine," Sarah whispered to me. She used the gag that was still around my neck to stop the flow of blood from my wound. She looked over at Mark. "We need to get her to a hospital."  
"Quick, get her into the car," Mark said."I'll deal with Amanda."  
As I gradually began to pass out from blood loss, I faintly wondered why Sarah didn't protest when Mark said he would "deal with" Amanda

* * *

_"Do you realize what you've done?"  
Mark didn't scream when he spoke to his fellow apprentice, though Amanda wished he had.  
"She was going to tell John," Amanda whispered, hanging her head.  
"You know the rules. "One, don't be obvious about your identity. Two, don't kill people. And three," He pointed to the staircase. "Don't touch a single hair on that goddamn bitch's head!" He started to raise his voice a little.  
"Don't talk about her like that!" Amanda protested, raising her head to scream at Mark.  
"This coming from the person who tried to kill her." Mark's voice returned to its usual monotone state.  
"I made a mistake."  
"Yeah, a pretty fucking big mistake. If John found out about this, I think he'd go back on his pledge not to kill people."  
"You're not gonna tell him, are you?" Amanda asked. She started to cry again.  
"No I'm not gonna tell him, you big crybaby. You think I'd risk making him angry?" Mark took a deep breath, trying to calm his anger. "You and I both know how John feels about Pam. He loves her like a daughter, and he'd kill to keep her safe."  
Amanda started to cry even harder. She didn't want to think about what would've happened if Mark hadn't come.  
"You go back to the warehouse," Mark sighed. "I'll clean up your mess."_

* * *

I opened my eyes to a white room, trying to shield them from the blinding light right above my head. I noticed that there was an IV in my arm.  
_What's going on?_  
I sat up, which made the back of my neck throb. It all came rushing back to me as soon as I felt the back of my neck with my hand, discovering that it was covered in bandages. I pulled my hand back immediately, as if I just put it on a hot stove.  
The door to my hospital room opened and Sarah and Jill walked in.  
"Hi Pam." Jill said cheerily. She smiled at me, but her eyes didn't match her smile. She was obviously troubled about something.  
"Jill? Sarah? What are you doing here?"  
The two women glanced at each other. Then Sarah spoke.  
"Listen, Pam. We have to make this quick. Right now, there are tons of news reporters out there wanting to interview you. You need to tell them that you survived an imposter Jigsaw Killer trap. Do not tell them who created it, or anything about John, Amanda, or Mark."  
"You know?" I asked. Sarah and Jill both nodded. I considered what Sarah said, then shook my head. "Are you sure I should tell my story to the media if I'm going to continue being John's apprentice? Shouldn't we just cover this up?"  
Jill looked at me sadly. "Sweetie, John and I talked, and we agreed it would be best if you stopped being his apprentice for awhile. Just until this all blows over."  
It took me a moment to process what Jill said.  
"What? Why?" I finally asked. "What will I do? Where will I stay?"  
"It's just safer this way," Sarah explained. "And, as for sleeping arrangements, I think it would be best if you stayed at my house for a little while. It also probably wouldn't hurt for you to go to school and maybe get a job."  
I made a face. School did not sound like something I want to do, especially after having an exciting, not normal life. "When can I come back?"  
"Like Jill said, when this all blows over," Sarah said. "When you stop getting attention and people stop wanting to murder you because of it. There's a rumor going around that you're a Jigsaw Killer Apprentice, and right now you're on about twenty hit lists. Not only that, but someone, not naming names here..."  
"Mark," I mumbled. "Mark wants me dead."  
"Yeah," Sarah confirmed. "I'm actually the one who convinced him to save you."  
"Well, thanks for that." I sighed. "It's probably going to look really suspicious if a cop was talking to me with the Jigsaw Killer's ex-wife instead of her partner. You'd better go."  
Sarah nodded and walked out of the room, Jill following behind.  
"Will I ever be able to come back?" I asked right before Jill walked out the door. She turned to face me.  
"You will. I promise."

* * *

"Amanda and Mark are off working on a game, plus I have a hand gun with me. You should be perfectly safe," Jill assured as we walked into John's room. He was laying on a make-shift hospital bed, his eyes closed. Seeing him in this state tugged at my heart. I knelt next to his bed, wondering if I should wake him. Just then, he opened his eyes.  
"Pam?" John rasped after he took his oxygen mask off of his face.  
"Yeah," I whispered. "It's me."  
"Ive missed you."  
"I've missed you too." I took John's hand and started to massage it with my fingers.  
"How have you been doing?" He asked.  
I launched into my story about starting school again, earning a smile when I told him about skipping most of my classes. I told him about getting a job at Culvers, and about how I was planning to get my own apartment when I had enough money. He asked what I was planning to do for a living, and I told him that I was planning to be an engineer, since I knew so much about it already from the stuff he taught me. John laughed weekly. Then he started coughing and he had to put the mask back on.  
"It's time to go," Jill said after awhile. I nodded, stood up, and kissed John on the forehead.  
"See you later?" I asked. John just smiled, and I left with Jill, saying one last goodbye.  
I guess I always knew that would be the last time I would speak to the person who meant the most to me. I didn't even get a chance to see his body after he died, they had already taken it to be autopsied.  
I eventually graduated high school and, even with my dreams of graduating college, I still waited in anticipation for thd day I would be able to go back and continue John's work.


	7. Epilogue - The Games Aren't Over Yet

**Hello Pamela**

_I took the tape out of the TV, wiping a tear from my eye._

**You may not know this, but even before you became my apprentice, I knew that you would be a part of one of my games.**

_"I know." Lawrence put his arm around me. "I miss him too."_

**You were so arrogant.**

_I hugged the tape to my chest, trying to hold onto the last words John spoke to me._

**So selfish.**

_"Mark," I said. "He created this whole avalanche. He killed him."_

**I didn't expect you to learn as fast as you did.**

_"John told me to watch over Jill," Lawrence said._

**I know more than you think I do.**

_"He told me that, if anything happened to her, to take action immediately."_

**I know that Amanda tried to kill you.**

_"Jill is dead," I replied. Lawrence nodded._

**I know that Mark put you through his own games.**

_"Mark killed her."_

**But I decided not to interfere, because I knew these tests you were being put through would make you stronger. They would make you more than just a piece in my games.**

_"I know." Lawrence grabbed his cane and pushed himself to his feet._

**I was right. Though you felt your nickname was childish towards the end of your apprenticeship, I always felt that it was fitting. You fit perfectly into my jigsaw puzzle.**

_"We have to do something about it." I stood up and followed Lawrence out of his small office._

**But you were also able to make a life for yourself on your own.**

_"I know what we can do," Lawrence said as he hobbled along on his one good foot._

**I have broken my rules by becoming emotionally attached to you.**

_I helped Lawrence put on a cape and mask before putting on my own._

**I loved you like you were my family.**

_"I have one more person who is willing to help us," he said._

**I just have two things I need you to do.**

_"Who's that?" I asked, adjusting my mask._

**You may have already met my friend. I asked him to deliver this tape to you. You may recognize him from a while ago.**

_"Mark's partner."_

**Help him with whatever task he needs to accomplish.**

_The three of us followed Mark until we had a chance to capture him._

**Keep him safe. He will be important for your next task.**

_I shackled Mark to the pipe Adam was chained to so long ago. I saw Lawrence look at his corpse with regret. "I should've stayed," he mumbled._

**Continue my work.**

_"He lost his game," I said, turning my attention to Mark and Mark alone._

**My legacy is now yours.**

_"So did I," I heard Lawrence whisper to himself._

**Teach people to survive.**

_Mark started to stir._

**To live.**

_"Go on," Lawrence ordered._

**You are my daughter.**

_"No," I protested. "This is my confrontation."_

**You are my savior.**

_"Very well." Lawrence left the room, leaving me to deliver the final words Mark would ever hear._

**You are my first apprentice.**

_**So, what did you think? Leave a review please! In chapter five, I asked for ideas for some one-shot Saw crossovers. If you could give me some ideas, that would be fantabulous! ****i also have a poll on my profile, and it would be great if you voted on that as well.**_

**_Now that my advertising is done, like like to thank all of you guys for being awesome readers and leaving amazing comments. I know I'm definitely not the best writer on Fanfiction, but I hope I'm at least decent enough for you guys to enjoy my stories. Thanks again!_**

**_~A Friendly Ginger_**


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